The Pigman: Inheritance
by Lord H J Potter
Summary: When Mister Pignati passes away, he ensures that those that he loves are well taken care of.
1. Chapter 1

I hadn't spoken much since the Pigman's death one week earlier. John hadn't spoken much in the last week, nor did he take a smoke, drink, or partake in any of his usual pastimes, which I found very unusual. John and I had been invited to attend his funeral, and I was shocked to discover that he did, however distant, have relatives who would be taking care of his funeral arrangements.

"John", I called out, spotting him in the throng of students. I adjusted my pace to match his. "John, we have to be there in," I glanced at my watch, "Thirty minutes". "Meet me at our usual spot, ok?". No response. "Y'know, the bench by the Library?". I was rewarded with a curt nod. I felt as if I had to spell out every little thing out for John, as if he had the mental capacity of a four year old. I knew he didn't of course, but he was acting very subdued, and that worried me. Very much.

Half and hour later, we were walking side-by-side to the casket containing the soulless husk of a loved one. He may not have been actual flesh-and-blood family, but we both considered him more of a family than our real ones. Hesitantly, I extended my hand for John, feeling the blood rush to my face as John peered at me through a microscope. Seeing his questioning look, I clarified for him, "I want to feel you with me here. This feels all too surreal. First that mentally-ill Norton kid, then Mr. Pignati passing. You are going to be my anchor to this plane of existence. It also doesn't hurt that you look the opposite of Bobo." It was his turn to flush and turn away.

The actual ceremony was over after about an hour. Then the next bomb dropped. His lawyer, the executor of his will, approached us, "Are you two one Miss Lorraine Jensen and one Mister John Conlan?" We nodded our confirmation. "The both of you are the primary beneficiaries of his estate," he informed us. We were shocked, and didn't even entertain the thought of something like this happening. One of Mr. Pignati's nephews turned around in shock. He was green with envy, "How come those absolute strangers get to have his money?" he whined to the lawyer. "Well, it is stated in Mister Angelo Pignati's will that they stand to inherit his fortune." he shot back, nipping the issue in the bud.

"Come with me to sort out the state of affairs for Mister Angelo Pignati," he beckoned at us. Wearily, we followed him to his office at the funeral home. "You two stand to inherit quite a lot, I understand. Millions, if I'm not mistaken," he stated. We were stunned at this revelation. I had never seen a single hint that Mr. Pignati possessed wealth of that amount, but looking back, I realized that normal people, even lonely ones, don't just give money away to strangers on the telephone. The lawyer opened his attache case, which I humorously observed John looking at it with a sense of disdain. He removed an official looking stack of papers, and at the top of the stack, I was able to glean the bold heading, 'LAST WILL & TESTAMENT of ANGELO PIGNATI.

Then he began to read from it. "I, Angelo Pignati, a resident of the County of New York, State of New York, being of sound and disposing mind, memory and understanding, do hereby make, publish and declare this to be my Last Will and Testament, hereby revoking all wills and codicils at any time heretofore made by me," he quoted. I tuned him out as he blathered through all the painstaking and meticulous legal jargon. However, I quickly tuned back in when I heard my name and John's. "All the rest, residue and remainder of my estate, of every nature and kind, which I may own at the time of my death, real, personal and mixed, tangible and intangible, of whatsoever nature and wheresoever situated, I give, devise and bequeath to Lorraine Jensen and John Conlan, whom shall each receive one half of my gross estate," he intoned.

I was on high alert for anything that might indicate what exactly half of his gross estate denoted. I was not disappointed as the lawyer reached the end of the will and speaking English instead of all that complex legal jargon. He pulled out a sheet of paper that listed all of Mr. Pignati's worldly possessions and their current market value, including his liquid assets. I nearly had a heart attack as I stared at the eight digit number indication is liquid assets. Forty-four _million_, three-hundred sixty-eight _thousand_, nine-hundred-eight dollars, and seventy cents. I felt light-headed and faint from the shock, and I could tell John was too.

I hastily let the lawyer know my stance on this stunning revelation, "I can't, never mind that, _won't_ steal from Mr. Pignati like that," I spluttered. This seemed to finally fully wake John up for the first time since Mr. Pignati's demise. "I agree with Lorraine," firmly stated a lucid John. The lawyer seemed almost amused, "Well then, would you rather this money fall into the hands of the government, or would you like to accept it, not even for your own gain, but for philanthropy?" he asked. This gave us pause. I could see the wheels turning in John's head, just as I could feel them churning away in mine.

The lawyer, seemingly a mind reader, pushed two pieces of paper over John and I, accordingly. It basically stated that we accepted our respective halves of the estate, and that we would sign for it. I quickly skimmed through the document, and seeing nothing with bad intent, signed it with a flourish. I glanced over at John who hadn't even bothered to read it, and just scribbled his name at the bottom.

The lawyer took our signed documents, and stored them in his attache case, as the room we were in was only a temporary office provided by the funeral home, "I suppose we are finished with this matter," he concluded. With that, he ushered us out of the office and into the funeral home. Everybody else had left, so John and I began the trek home, thinking about our newly acquired vast fortune.


	2. Chapter 2

It had been two weeks since the Pigman's death and Lorraine and I had hardly spoken since. The situation seemed to affect her much more than it affected me, though Lorraine had always been paranoid about these kinds of things so I didn't know what to make of her actions. I, on the other hand, had decided that it was not worth my time to pursue an alcoholic lifestyle just like my old bore. I've been handling it pretty well these past couple of days, but sometimes when I come home from school, a nice drink is all that comes to mind. I didn't know why, but my psychologist says that kind of thing is common for people like me. After the death of Mr. Pignati, I'd begun seeing a psychologist to "cope with my problems" as the bore put it. I thought the idea was stupid at first, but then after a couple sessions, I really started to notice an improvement in my lifestyle.

In the few times Lorraine and I talked at the funeral, she explained to me how her mother had an outburst when she found out about the party and how she was in a lot of trouble. She started off by explaining to me how her mother never really understood her situation and that - in shorter terms - she finally expressed how she felt towards her mother. When she asked me how I felt, I was at a loss of words and just mentioned to her that I had stopped drinking. Though Lorraine seemed proud of me for my accomplishment, she still seemed to be looming over the Pigmans death. I can still remember the polished, wooden coffin, with its brass latches clamped shut, keeping us from seeing Mr. Pignati's lifeless face. I didn't want to tear up in front of Lorraine, though I could tell she was fighting tears back as well. It was all so overwhelming for the both of us and I had trouble grasping the idea that the man who had been more of a father than my own had passed away in an instant. Not even the abundance of fortune we inherited from Mr. Pignati could suppress my feelings of sorrow.

After the funeral, Lorraine wanted to head down to Tony's to grab a soda and talk about all the possible ways we could spend the money, but I declined the offer. I still had too many thoughts and emotions swirling around in my head, without a place or proper grip in my mind. When I reached the front of my house, I stopped outside the path leading up to the doorway. It seemed like the walkway just stretched on forever, like an endless passage leading up to the sanitation quarantine I called home. Though at that moment, I wasn't sure what home really was for me. Was it the place where I was raised but neglected to be nurtured? Or was it the place that made me feel cared for? The place that I could go almost everyday and feel safe, talking to people who actually cared about my well being. As began making my way down the path and into my house, I thought of all the pleasant times when Lorraine, Mr. Pignati, and I joked around and made each other laugh, and all the cool brain games Mr. Pignati had shown us. I realized that my life would never be the same without Mr. Pignati's presence to cheer it up. He had made me feel like I had purpose in this world, and I will never be able to repay him for his generosity. When I went to open the door to my house, just before walking in, I turned around.

"Thank you Mr. Pignati." I whispered, as if somehow, Mr. Pignati could hear me from the depths of heaven. I cracked the door open wide enough for me to slip through, not wanting the wind to blow a clutter of leaves through the opening. Then shut the door just was swiftly as I had opened it, with my derangement of thoughts now fitting snugly into place.


End file.
